


One Heart, Two Souls

by Flame0515



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF, Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet, Character Death, Established Relationship, Ghosts, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible fluff later on, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, dealing with death, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flame0515/pseuds/Flame0515
Summary: It's been a week since Shane's death and Ryan isn't coping well. How could he? He held his soulmate's hand as he died in a hospital bed. He watched the man die only a few hours after they woke up together, happy as ever. He lost his boyfriend, his best friend, his ghoul friend, his entire world and since then he's shattered into pieces.But as it turns out (and much to Shane's chagrin) ghosts are real.Unfortunately, Ryan doesn't know that yet.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. Pray For His Immortal Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here's something that's way out of my comfort zone!  
> I'm not super great at writing angst and I'm definitely not a huge fan of it either, but I had this idea nag at the back of my head for three whole weeks and I finally caved and wrote it! I'm excited to continue it as well.  
> This fic is heavily inspired by Charming Disaster's Ghost Story and I HIGHLY recommend you listen to it. It gave me this vague idea that I wanted to work into a Shyan fic so- here's this! I'm not sure what I'm doing yet so bare with me and without further ado- I hope you enjoy!

It’s been a week.

It’s been a week since it happened. A week since Ryan got that cursed call. A week since he rushed out of a shoot and to the hospital. A week since he held his boyfriend’s hand for the last time. A week since he last heard his laugh or his voice. A week of silence. A week of emptiness.

It’s been a week without Shane. 

Ryan is completely and utterly broken.

He’s cried more than he’s ever cried in his life. He’s never been angrier. He’s yelled and he’s sobbed and he’s beginning to come up dry. He’s starting to feel an aching numbness set in. He doesn’t want to accept it but he’s starting to. He can feel it and that terrifies him more than any ghost or demon ever could. Ever since he met the man he had seen him or interacted with him in some way, at the very least, once a week. It’s jarring, to not do such a thing for the first time in years. It startles him and fills him with a sense of dread he can’t handle. 

His friend’s and family have been there for him of course, trying all they can to support him or to help him, in any way they can despite their own obvious mourning. He hasn’t eaten in a few days now. He can’t bring himself to. He was always forgetful when it came to that but now more so than ever with no one to remind him. He hasn’t slept either. He can’t remember when he last did, honestly. Just another thing he does when there’s no one to ground him. He mostly just lays awake, crying. He stopped crying in front of people around day four of his dull new existence, deciding to do it on his own time instead. 

He thinks one of the worst parts, beside the obvious, is that he doesn’t know where to go from here. 

How does one move forward after they’ve lost their everything?

He can’t focus on anything other than the past, what he should have done differently, what he wished he didn’t say and what he would have said instead. He has so many regrets. People try to get him to do something, _anything_. They try to get him to make decisions on funerals and expenses and work and the future in general. None of it registers.

Everything’s been a blur for about a week now anyway.

Except for that day, of course.

It was business as usual, because why wouldn’t it be? He woke up in Shane’s arms for the last time, they had breakfast together- for the last time- and they enjoyed their morning. For the last time. Then they had to get to work. Shane was headed to Watcher HQ and he was meant to film for Spooky Small Talk. 

Shane insisted on dropping him off. Just to “do something nice” as he had put it. They bickered about it for a bit before Ryan relented. 

He wishes he didn’t. He wishes he would have dropped Shane off instead.

But that’s not what happened. 

Shane drove them, which he didn’t do often, and they made jokes and bickered and wheezed together the whole ride there. 

For the last time. 

Ryan leaned over the middle console to kiss Shane for the last time. _“See you later, big guy.”_ He had said, grinning.

Shane returned the smile. _“I love you, Ry.”_ He said, easily now, this far into their relationship. 

_“I love you too.”_

That was the last conversation he ever had with Shane. Not even an hour later he was speeding to the hospital.

The sight of Shane, lying there, hooked up to every machine imaginable, _dying,_ was one that Ryan knew he would never be able to get out of his head. He was barely breathing and completely alone, with his eyes fluttering open here and there. The doctor told him, quite bluntly, that there was no way he would survive and that Ryan should say goodbye. 

His world probably shattered then and there. 

So he sat beside Shane’s hospital bed and held his cold, limp, hand. He looked upon the dying love of his life and wondered desperately how everything had changed so fast. What had gone so wrong? 

Despite his unconsciousness it was evident Shane was in pain. There was no way he wasn’t with the sheer amount of injuries he had. It amazed him, to watch the life drain from someone he’d seen earlier that morning, lively and happy as ever. 

_“..Hey Shane.”_ He said hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if Shane could even hear him but he spoke nonetheless. Time was running out. He was already crying. _“Fuck. I have so much I want to tell you.. I love you so much, Shane. I hope you know that. I hope I told you that enough. I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.”_ The shake in his voice was undeniable. His vision was blurry. He was terrified. But he kept speaking. _“You’re my everything, okay? I owe everything to you. I’ll never forget everything we’ve been through and uh- haunt me if you can, okay?”_ He choked on his own wet laugh. _“We should have set up a code, huh? Too late for that I guess. Jesus Shane- I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. We’re a fucking package deal and-”_ He cut himself off. _“Just.. thank you for everything. I love you.”_ He concluded. 

A moment passed and he swears on his life that he felt Shane squeeze his hand back, for the tiniest second. And then he flatlined. 

He doesn’t remember much after that. 

So here he sits. On their cold and empty bed, sobbing. It’s three in the morning. He feels lost and empty. His life has no brightness in it. He doesn’t feel like himself anymore. He doesn’t know what to do. Everything _hurts_.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck!_

It’s not fucking fair! It isn’t! In no universe could it be! Why? God, _why?_ Why did this happen? Why was Shane ripped out of his life so violently? Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Shane? Why couldn’t they just be happy? Everything was going so good! So fucking good! They were gonna make something, do something, be fucking successful! They were gonna be happy and live wonderful lives and grow old together! That was how it was supposed to be but it’s not going to ever happen because Shane is fucking dead!

He collapses into a heap onto their bed and curls into a ball, sobbing. 

He’s thrashed around, and beaten the pillows, and lost his mind just to do something, to feel something, to express his pain somehow. There’s red marks forming on his forehead and his hands are red and now he’s physically in pain but it doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Nothing does. He’s worn himself out now. Expelled all his energy. He’s more exhausted than he’s been all week. 

He cries himself to sleep for the fifth night in a row.

…

_“Hey Ry.” Shane says as a greeting, a smile on his face. He looks soft and ethereal in the bright light surrounding them._

_“Shane?” He asks like he can’t believe what’s in front of him._

_“Yeah. How’re you holding up?” Shane asks._

_“What?”_

_Shane frowns. “Oh Ryan.” He mutters and then he sighs. “I love you, okay?”_

_He tilts his head. He’s confused. “I love you too. Is something wrong?” Why is Shane acting like this?_

_Shane simply shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Look, I’ll be around, okay? Keep an eye out for me. You’re hard to get to right now.”_

_“Shane what are you saying?”_

_“I’m not entirely sure yet.” He says with a frown. “But I’ll get through to you. If it’s the last thing I do.” Shane cringes at his own words but Ryan doesn’t know why._

_“What?” He asks again but suddenly Shane is far away and slipping from his view. He’s shouting._

_“Just- stay a believer, okay?” And as Shane turns and walks away he can distantly hear him mutter, “I can’t believe you were right.” Then the darkness swallows his vision._

…

Ryan jumps awake. 

For a split second he expects Shane to be there, lying next to him, asleep. He’s not, of course, but that’s not all that surprising anymore. What _is_ surprising however- did he dream about Shane? Was that like, a fucking visitation or something? He's crying again but it’s uncontrollable and he’s more confused than sad. What had he dreamt about? What was their conversation? He could feel it already slipping from his mind, far faster than any dream he’d ever had thus far. He latches onto something, anything he can remember from it and-

_“Stay a believer, okay?”_

What in the everloving fuck did that mean?


	2. Pity's The Last Thing I need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan finally breaks out the spirit box and Steven makes an appearance.

The next day is a repeat of the days before it. More people come over, more people try to comfort him to no avail, people bring food and people cry and it’s nothing new at this point. 

But now it’s different.

It’s different because there’s something else to occupy his mind for once. It’s something for him to latch on to and to think about and try to comprehend. He’s quiet and out of it once more, not just because he’s grieving but because he’s thinking. He shouldn’t bring it up, he knows that and so he won't. He’ll be pitied (more so than usual) and he’ll be told that he’s just going through a lot and whatever- he  _ knows  _ it’s weird and that yeah,  _ rationally, _ he knows it was probably just a dream but he’s never been the most rational person, has he? Besides, it felt  _ too  _ real to be just a dream.

That was Shane. In every way that he had ever known the man, that was him. There was no mistaking it. That was  _ him _ . It had to have been a visitation, he was sure of it, he just didn’t know what the point of it was. If he could remember more of it that'd be great but all he has to work with is the last thing Shane said,  _ “Stay a believer.” _

There could only be one thing that that meant. 

So, that night, when everyone was finally gone, he sat on the floor in the living room, staring at the spirit box. 

He knows it seems insane, he knows it seems desperate, he is fully aware of how ridiculous this all seems. But it’s  _ not,  _ not to him at least. He believes in the spirit box, he knows what it does and he knows what he’s trying to do. He’d done this thousands of times before, in many haunted places. The only difference now is the circumstances, right? The spirit box had never been used in the apartment and it wasn’t necessarily haunted just.. It doesn’t matter.

He ignores the ache in his chest and pushes away the memories the spirit box brings. Gathering his courage, he turns it on.

The loud static noise fills the room and he winces at it. That was the most noise there’d been in this apartment in a week. When people were here they always spoke in hushed tones, like they were afraid to disturb their surroundings. Or maybe they were just afraid to disturb him. He shakes his head as if to clear it and focuses on the noise. Everything’s mostly garbled radio noises. Sometimes it cues in on a song for a split second but for the most part there’s nothing to make of it. 

He takes a deep breath. “Is anyone here with me?” 

Nothing. 

He tries again, “If someone’s here can you tell me your name?”

Again, nothing.

He sighs, frustratingly, “Please, speak to me.” He continues, still going for his usual ghost hunter technique. 

Once more, nothing but noise. 

“Fuck!” He shouts. He puts his head in his hands, “Please, just fucking say something.” He whispers. Is this what you call desperate? 

The box only sputters out more nonsense because of course it does. “Shane, I’m starting to understand why you hate this thing.” He says to the empty apartment with a heavy sigh. 

Then he hears it. 

“Ha!”

It cuts through the noise so clearly for a split second and it startles him so much he jumps and scrambles to grab the spirit box, staring at it in awe. That was Shane’s laugh, he fucking swears it was, he’d know it no matter what. That was Shane laughing at his suffering like he always did.

“Shane?” He asks, voice suddenly weak. His hands shake as they clutch the box. “Was that you?”

And again, nothing. He shouldn’t be so surprised. 

“Shane!” He shouts. “Please! Talk to me..” He mumbles, his vision turning blurry with tears. When it’s obvious he won't be getting another response he resists the overwhelming urge to throw the thing at the nearest wall and instead turns it off and sets it on the ground. 

He sits there for a while, silent tears slipping down his face. He stares at nothing mostly and his mind is basically tv static. Eventually, he picks himself up off the floor and drags himself to bed once more, this time with no fuss.

…

_ “Ryan!” Shane calls to him. It’s distant but he can hear him, he knows it’s him. “Ryan!” Shane calls again but he can’t find any source of the voice, not even a blip on the ever expanding horizon.  _

_ “Shane?” He calls out, more confused than anything else.  _

_ He’s only met with another “Ryan!” And nothing else.  _

_ “Where are you?” He asks. _

_ “You’re so close!” Shane shouts, his voice echoing all around him. “Don’t give up yet! Give me some time! I’ll see you soon!” _

_ “What?” He asks but this time there’s no response and the blinding void swallows him whole. _

…

When he wakes up he’s shaking and maybe even crying but he feels a little lighter. There’s a little more hope in his heart and he isn’t so discouraged. He doesn’t feel so alone. 

Steven arrives early that morning with groceries and stuff to make breakfast. He and Andrew have been providing almost all the food- he thinks it’s how they’re coping- and clearly they’re doing it a lot better than he is. “How are you doing?” Steven asks, pulling bacon out of it’s packaging. 

“I’m uh.. I’m still kicking.” He says, something he’s said several times to several people at this point. It’s then he notices the spirit box on the floor where he left it last night.  _ Goddamnit. _

“That’s good. Better than nothing.” Steven says, turning his back to Ryan to dig through the cabinets presumably for a pan. 

“Yeah.” Ryan agrees, sneaking over to the box. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’m good. I think. For now at least.” Steven says, thoughtfully. “I don’t know. It’s all a lot, you know? Who am I kidding of course you know.” 

“Yeah.” He agrees again. As quietly as possible he slides the box under the couch with his foot and silently cheers when he’s successful. “Glad you’re hanging in there.” But before Steven can say another word the spirit box comes to life from underneath the couch, catching both him and Steven off guard.

“Is that the spirit box?” Steven asks with a wince and suddenly he feels like he’s hiding a dirty secret.

“I think so?” He plays dumb, getting on the ground to look for it like he hadn’t just put it there. He grabs it and turns it off, holding it up to show Steven. “Not sure what it’s doing under the couch.. Or how it turned on..” He adds, staring at the box because that was truly bizarre.

Steven gives him a wary look but hums before turning back to the stove. Ryan places the spirit box on a bookshelf and goes back to his seat at the table by the window. “You know, you seem.. better today- for lack of better words that is.” He says.

He raises his eyebrows at that. “What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it.” He says, putting a strip of bacon on the pan. It starts to sizzle as he adds more. 

“Mhm.” Ryan shrugs. “Had a weird dream, I guess.” It’s a half truth.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s.. I don’t know.” He wants to say something, explain his thoughts but he can’t. How can he properly say ‘yeah I think Shane visited me in a dream so I tried to use the spirit box but he laughed at me and then I had another dream about him and I think he might be a ghost or something’ without sounding insane?

“You don’t have to tell me.” Steven says. “But I’m here if you need me.” 

He manages a half smile at that. “Thanks man.”

The rest of the day passes like they have been and that evening he decides to try the spirit box again. 

“Okay Shane.” He says with a sigh. “Are you here?” He asks the noise. 

Nothing.    
  
“C’mon.. Give me something to work with, big guy.” He mutters.

Again, nothing.

“Please, say something, anything.” He begs and he regrets it almost the minute he says it because the next thing to come out of the spirit box  _ is  _ something.

_ “Choo choo pickle pie.”  _

“Motherfucker!” He shouts, “Are you serious?! You’re an asshole even in death!” He says because that idiot gives him this? Like he hasn’t been crying over him for a week now? Bullshit. 

_ “Sorry.” _

He scoffs a laugh at that and then it clicks and he freezes. 

Holy fuck he’s definitely talking to Shane right now. 

“Oh my god..” He whispers, breathlessly. “Wait, Shane? Holy shit! I- can you say something else? Please? This is insane..” He makes several more attempts to coerce Shane into talking to no avail. It doesn’t take away from the fact that he had a conversation with his dead boyfriend using a device he hated in life. Not to mention that that’s the most they’ve ever gotten out of the spirit box! Well, that he’d ever gotten out of the spirit box.

After a couple minutes of trying to reach him again he finally relents. “Okay.” He says, “Tomorrow then. I’ll.. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Then he turns off the box and slides it back under the couch which seems to be it’s new place. 

He tries to go to bed but he can't. He has too much energy, too many thoughts. So naturally, he falls down a google rabbit hole about contacting ghosts. Might as well try everything, right?

He passes out after a while, laptop still in hand, and slips into an unfortunately dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thank to all who left a comment, it gave me the motivation to write another chapter :)  
> Please let me know what you though!!!!!! Thank you so much for reading <3


	3. Hear Him Whisper Sweetly In My Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan continues living. Shane wants to tell him that he's still here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note- I decided to start naming the chapters after lyrics from Ghost Story by Charming Disaster because it felt fitting.

“-Ryan!”

He jumps awake with a shout, completely disoriented. He looks for the source of the voice frantically. 

It’s Sara, with a frown on her face and a gentle hand on his shoulder. He furrows his eyebrows at her. “Hi, sorry- how did you get in here?” He asks.

She sighs. “You guys gave me a key? Like a while ago?”

“Oh! Right.” He mumbles, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up a little while Sara wanders out of their-  _ his _ room. “God, what time is it?” He mutters to himself, tapping the trackpad to wake up his laptop.

“Almost noon!” Sara calls back. “You’ve got like, an hour, before we leave.”

“Leave?” He asks before the previous night's ghostly google searches glare at him from their place on the screen and he promptly slams the laptop shut. He shoves it away from him like he was burned by it and sets his head in his hands. Is he desperate? Is this desperate? Fuck.

“To meet with the lawyers? And Shane’s family?” Sara answers his question from earlier.

That snaps him out of his self pity. He quickly jumps out of bed and stumbles into the living room. “To _ what? _ ” He asks. 

Sara looks at him with sad eyes. “Do you not remember?”

“No.” He mutters, sitting beside her on the couch. “Fuck! I can’t do that, that’s too much, that’s too..” He trails off and the  _ ‘That’s too real.’  _ dies on his tongue but Sara seems to understand. Goddamn it, he’s crying again. How could he not remember this? This was big and important and scary and what- he just blocked it out? Stupid.

She rubs his back. “I know.” She says with a sniffle and he knows if he looked up at her right now it wouldn’t help.

…

Sara does all she can to calm him down and comfort him but it’s a fruitless effort. He’s always been hard to calm and the only person who could ever really do it, who perfected tricks to do so.. well his secrets died with him. So Ryan can’t stay composed for longer than five minutes and he steps out of the meeting several times as do the Madej’s they need to. He feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack the entire time. 

He is, undoubtedly, a mess.   
Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long. Shane had a will, of course, but it wasn’t overly complicated. He was a simple man. The other matter, however, was a different story. Police came to the conclusion that Shane had been hit while driving to the office and while the other driver was injured it was nothing to the extent of what happened to Shane. In fact, the other driver had gotten out of the hospital about two days after the accident. So, Ryan was presented with the idea of suing the man for wrongful death. A concept that made him want to throw up on the spot- why? He doesn’t really know. 

It was decided for him that they could meet again some other time because he was clearly not in a state to continue the discussion which, fair. 

So, he went home. Absolutely exhausted and emotionally drained once more. Sara offered to stay a bit longer, get him some food, just be there for him but he shooed her off. He wanted to be alone.

Well maybe alone, maybe haunted by Shane’s ghost. The outcome depended on what the spirit box and wikihow had to say. 

Okay well, he looks back at his search history and the pages he had pulled up on his laptop and admittedly most of them are incoherent and nonsensical but one relatively decent website (not wikihow) says that leaving out a piece of paper and a pen could result in some responses so he keeps that in mind and heads over to the living room.

He starts with the spirit box because that’s where he had been making the most progress in this endeavor. Sliding it out from under the couch, he turns it on. The noise fills the room. He sighs, “Hey Shane. Uh, today was hard.”

_ “Why?” _

Ryan almost has a heart attack. He hadn’t expected a response so soon. He composes himself. “Legalities.” He says simply. “I could sue someone over you.”

_ “Do it.” _

That startles him mostly because of the gall. “Really?”

“ _ Least.. He could.. do.” _

He laughs a little at that. “I don’t know.”

_ “That all?” _

He sighs once more and goes quiet. Is that all? No, of course it’s not all. There’s a thousand things running through his head right now and his world has been crashing down round him and he’s broken and hurting and stressed and above all he’s  _ alone _ . Tears threaten to spill out of his eyes once more. “I miss you..” He whispers.

The spirit box goes quiet for a moment. Almost as if it/Shane was thinking. Then it speaks again.

_ “It’s okay.. Ry.” _

“But that’s the thing!” He all but shouts. “It’s not! It’s not okay! It’s not okay because you’re not here! Do you know what I’d give to be able to see you again? To fucking hold your hand? I miss you so much but you’re gone and there’s nothing I can do about it! Fuck!” He’s crying hard again but who fucking cares anymore really?

Shane doesn’t have anything to say to that. 

“Look.” he says after a moment, his voice shaking. “I’m gonna try something, okay? I’m gonna put a notebook out and a pen and if you can even use it- write something. Give me a message. Let me know that I’m not just going insane, okay Shane?”

Again he gets no response. 

“Great, yeah, sure.” He mutters, shuffling through a stack of nonsense on the coffee table to uncover- oh god damn it- to uncover Shane’s Puppet History notebook. He doesn’t dare look inside or dwell on it too long because Watcher was another thing to worry about and knowing that he’d never hear Shane’s stupid songs again? That hurt. 

He opens it to a blank cage, grabs a nearby pen, and sets them off to the side. 

“Alright.” He whispers. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow” Then, almost hesitantly, “I love you.”

_ “Love you too.” _

He sucks in a sharp breath and turns off the spirit box. 

Now, to find something to occupy his time.

…

He doesn’t come up with anything.

Everything reminds him of Shane. He realized he needs to do laundry? Shane’s clothes are in the hamper and they still smell like him. Maybe get some work done? What work is there to do when everything came to a screeching halt? Go to the office? Shane’s desk is there and he needs to clear it out eventually. Go online? And be bombarded with the absolute devastation and anguish that their fanbase is experiencing right now? God no. Talk so someone? They’ll bring up Shane and pity him. Stay in the apartment? Shane’s everywhere in here. Go out? Without Shane? Go grocery shopping? And be reminded of Shane’s favorite foods? No. Besides, he already has so much shit in the fridge. 

He takes a nap instead. 

When he wakes up it’s almost seven which is sad to say the least. He’s not hungry but he figures he should eat so he wanders out to the kitchen. He settles on some breakfast casserole someone had brought over at some point and reheats a bit of it. He stands there and watches the microwave plate spin because he has nothing better to do and dissociates a bit before the beeping brings him back. 

He quietly takes his food over to the living room and goes to reach for the tv remote for some background noise at the very least but something catches his eye. 

The fucking notebook has writing in it. 

He sets his food down and scrambles to grab it. 

_ See you soon. _

It says, in what is undoubtedly Shane’s handwriting.

“What the fuck.” He whispers in disbelief. “Shane what the fuck does that mean?” He asks the empty room because the fucker had to be listening. 

“You tell me.” Shane says, without the use of the spirit box, albeit a bit echoey. Sorta like he sounds in his dreams. For a second Ryan thinks he’s started hearing things but Shane speaks again. “Ry, I need you to look at me.” His voice is coming from behind. He hesitates. “Preferably soon? I don’t have much time.” Shane tries again and finally he whips his head around and-

It’s Shane. It’s Shane but see-through and not all there. Fading, almost. Still wearing what he wore the day he died. 

Ryan freezes, wide eyed and shocked. 

“Hey, Ry.” Shane says, smiling sadly. “I don’t have enough power or whatever to stay long- don’t ask, I’m still confused myself- but I’m still here, okay baby? I’m still here and I’m watching. Alright? I love you.” Shane rambles. 

“..What?” He asks, “I, I don’t understand-”

“Neither do I man. Soon. I’ll be back, just give me time, okay? I need you to say okay.” Shane rushes. He’s actually fading, faster now. 

“Okay.” He manages to croak out despite himself.

Shane smiles at that and then just as fast as he appeared he’s gone and Ryan’s alone again, staring at the spot where Shane stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is coming so much later after the last one. I've been super busy and can't stop procrastinating.   
> I keep meaning to ask if y'all would want to see some of this from Shane's perspective but after this chapter I don't know if I should leave in ambiguity or if it's entirely too late to do so.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! Kudos are much appreciated and comments make me SO unbelievably happy!  
> If you wanna talk to me, or give me a prompt/request- my Tumblr is Flame0515  
> Thanks so much for reading! <3


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